


Do You Love Me?

by j_gabrielle



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Domestic, Establish Relationship, Falling In Love, First Time, M/M, Whatever They Were Into Lovers, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 03:43:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8781634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_gabrielle/pseuds/j_gabrielle
Summary: Filled for the kinkmeme prompt: So Newt and Percival have been in an arranged marriage for several years now and they like each other well enough but neither believed love to be a within the realm of possibility for their relationship. One day Pecival sees something while he's at work that puts the idea in his head and he just can't get it out. Can't stop hoping that maybe love can be a part of his marriage. Percival starts asking Newt if Newt oves him. Newt just thinks he's being weird and without really answering the question keeps blowing him off. Only.... Now Newt is thinking about it and, well, if Percival is asking there has to be a reason... Right? Tl:DR: I watched fiddler on the roof again and now I want Arranged Marriage!Percy and Newt slowly realizing they're in love with each other after years of thinking it all a marriage of convenience.(http://fantasticbeasts-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/459.html?thread=494027#cmt494027)





	1. Chapter 1

Graves is almost out the door when he hears Newt's footsteps running down the stairs. "Percival? Are you leaving already?"  
  
"Yes. The President has called for a meeting about the World Cup and I'm supposed to present the proposal for security measures." Graves replies, shrugging on his coat. "Is there something you'd like me to pick up for you?"  
  
Newt nods, pulling out a list from his vest pocket. "If you could pick these up for me, that will be most helpful. One of the Squid has contracted a nasty cold and I have to keep watch." Graves pulls a face that makes Newt laugh, patting him on his arm. "Have a good day at work." He smiles.  
  
"Try to remember to eat at some point today. And keep that damn Niffler out of my study, unless you want to spoil your Christmas surprise." Graves replies with the beginnings of his replying smile before he Disapparates into an alleyway near the Woolworth Building.   
  
***  
  
They had met for the first time under a canopy of summer flowers on a sweltering August afternoon. His family had attended in their full finery unsuitable for a wedding this simple, while Newt's had tried their best to remain stoic faced, failing at the sight of him walking down the aisle. Graves had been nervous that last week leading up to the big day; no one had asked him what he wanted for the ceremony or the reception after, his mother and cousins had taken over liaising with Newt's family about it, leaving it till that last bubble of time before inquiring whether he would like a black with yellow stripes tie or a midnight blue bow tie to match his suit.  
  
Newt's hand in his at their first meeting had been shaking, unnaturally chilled. It wasn't till later that he learnt about how Newt had been in his suitcase up to the last minute tending to his creatures before his brother had to tear him out by his collar. Newt wouldn't look him in the eye when they exchanged vows, would not meet his gaze when their hands were sealed in their binding spells. They skip the customary kiss. But when he had finally gotten him alone, right before they had to leave the small room they had found refuge in for an agonising hour for pictures, he had assured his new husband that he is no monster and he won't ask for things Newt cannot provide.   
  
After that, Newt had relaxed a little more by his side, going as far as to smile at him before he went to sleep on their marital bed while Graves took the sofa.   
  
***  
  
"... and here, here, and here." Graves signs each form with a flourish. He dismisses his personal secretary, but not before he tells her that he will be taking his lunch now. Making his quick escape before anyone could wave fresh documents (from hell) in his face, Graves definitely does not run and seek refuge in a little No-Maj cafe two blocks away.  
  
"Coffee, black and a short stack." The waitress, Millie, says with a smile when he takes his usual seat. Graves pays her a smile of his own. He likes this place, likes the way everything from the fixtures to the faces of the patrons sit a little worn and hewn. It feels a lot more real than the varnished aesthetics that the Wizarding versions favour. Graves appreciates the feeling he gets here of how he can be just another regular customer, someone who does not have all those responsibilities he has, someone who has his order before he can even ask for it.  
  
His coffee arrives and he curls his palms around it, savouring the heat. Graves picks his cup up, ready to drink before he sees them.  
  
The husband is leaning heavily on his cane, listing to one side. But the wife is supporting him there, a smile on her face as she guides him into the cafe. Graves sees Millie take them to a seat by the window just in his line of sight. The wife seats her husband first before she takes hers, all the while holding his hand. The husband is jittery, shaking in the way that old people do when they have lost control of their bodies but not of their mind. There is a furrow in his brow that his wife notices, leaning over to kiss it away. And the moment she does that, his entire countenance changes. He smiles, lifting her hand in his to kiss. She laughs, the sound silent in the quiet din of the cafe, but Graves imagines that it must sound beautiful.  
  
"Who are they?" He asks when Millie comes to bring him his short stack. "That couple by the window?"  
  
"Oh, them? Mr and Mrs Carter, they are. Sweet as honey those two. Told me that they've been married 59 years next week and apparently they'd rented out the ballroom at the Waldorf-Astoria for the celebration! All their kids, their kids and some of their kid's kids are coming from all over for the do. When I asked her how they did it, she told me that the key is to constantly learn something new about your partner. They were an arranged marriage, you see? Didn't meet until the day of their wedding, but he told me that he fell in love the first time he saw her." Leaning in conspiratorially, she whispers, "The Mrs also told me that he was a bit of a Casanova back in the day, and then told me she's inviting all of his former lady friends just to rub it in their faces that she got the man and not them. Personally, I think she's just fibbing about rubbing it in their faces. People like her are too happy to care what others may think about them, and that is what makes it annoying. They do it without thinking." Millie steps away with a shrug.  
  
Graves shakes his head, grinning all the same as he cuts into his food. Millie leaves, but he sneaks quick looks their way as he eats. Watching the way she wipes away the drool on the corner of the husband's mouth, cutting up his food for him, feeding him. Something unsettling creeps into him then, wrapping around his chest like a hollow grip. Graves rubs his thumb over his wedding band, one he has not taken off since the day it was slipped on three years ago, and cannot help but to wonder.  
  
***  
  
Newt, of course, does not notice his strange mood when he returns home. The squid has a cold after all.  
  
He had knocked on the door to the room they had converted for the habitats, presenting the items on Newt's list, be on the receiving end of a wide smile before the door is shut in his face. Swallowing and folding his hands behind him, Graves goes to the kitchen to prepare dinner.   
  
The calendar Newt keeps by the door, at his insistence after he discovered in the early days just how often his new husband would disappear for days and weeks on end to 'rescue and rehabilitate' those 'poor, poor creatures but Graves I could let those poachers get away with those eggs even though I knew it would harm me'. For his own sanity, he had begged. And Newt does a pretty good job of marking down where he is going, and for how long he will be gone. Graves runs his thumb over a marking for a trip two months ago when he had returned with fresh wounds and more Occamy eggs, promptly keeling over the moment he stepped through the front door. Graves had felt a sort of utter helplessness then, something like how he feels now. Except now, he can probably put a name to that emotion. And, as much as the thought alone scares him, how he is hoping that it could happen in his marriage.  
  
It takes a full week for the squid to be well enough, and another two days before Newt notices the strange mood.  
  
"What's gotten into you?" He asks, squinting his eyes. It is a rare Saturday afternoon where both of them are sitting by the fire; Graves with a half-read book on his lap and his eyes on the grey skies outside, while Newt has the Bowtruckle perched on his head and Dougal, the Demiguise, on his lap. He isn't wearing his wedding ring, but he never does inside their home. "You seem... Very far away."  
  
Graves has an apology on his tongue that he bites back, choosing to set the book aside. Taking Newt's free hand in his, he clears his throat. Graves wants to ask him if he had ever wanted more, if he had ever thought they could have more. He wants to ask Newt whether the idea of having a marriage filled with love, romantic love, was possible enough that it outweighed the risk of losing whatever comfortable medium they had landed since that day they exchanged vows that bound them to each other. But what comes out is, "Do you love me?"  
  
Newt's eyes grow big, a high flush on his cheeks. He pulls his hand away. "What? Do you mean like other people? Like, other married people? Love you? This is sudden. Um. I-I mean, I find you likeable? What we have works and I don't... Percival, why are you asking me this?" He gets up and paces to the other side of the room. Graves folds his hands together on his lap.  
  
"I saw a couple the other day. Married 59 years. Arranged, like we were. They looked so happy together and I just thought. Well, I thought why couldn't we have that?"  
  
Newt wrings his hands. The way he does when he is nervous. He tilts his face away from Graves, and it curls something painful and unpleasant in him to recognise that as Newt being uncomfortable with his presence in the room. "But what we have is good. What we have is great, Percival. You promised me you wouldn't ask me for something I cannot give. Remember?"  
  
Graves closes his eyes, turning his face away. "I remember." Reining himself in, he stands, abandoning his book. "I'm sorry I asked. Please forgive me and forget I ever brought this up." He leaves the room, not quite running to the privacy of his study.  
  
***  
  
He tries to patch things up in the intervening weeks. Graves leaves baskets of supplies for the creatures at the door of his room. He makes sure that there is also enough food for Newt every morning before he leaves the house. Quite unable to tamp down the bittersweet swell of satisfaction when he sees that the creatures are getting their meals and so is their human.   
  
Graves works it out so that he leaves their house early enough that Newt isn't awake, and then late enough that he is asleep. It goes on to the point that his personal secretary tells him that there is nothing for him to sign or approve or to discuss, and makes him dismiss their entire department early so that they may all enjoy their long weekend ahead. Blinking owlishly, he thanks her, does as she says but stays there in his office until dinner before he makes his way home.  
  
The house lights up when he steps in. Hanging his coat and scarf, he yawns a little, intending to skip dinner all together and to handle a bath after he has had a nap. Graves is two steps up the stairs when the front door burst open with such alarm, that Graves instinctively reaches for his wand.  
  
"Oh, good! You're home." Newt says breathlessly. His blue coat is buttoned up wrong, and his collar is half upturned as if he has swept out the door in a hurry. Graves settles his heart, stowing away his wand before coming down.  
  
"Is everything all right?" Graves ask, eyes running over Newt to assess for any injuries. Curiously, he is wearing his wedding ring, though Graves reasons that it is possible that he wears it out of habit when leaving the house. That calendar entry hasn't changed on his next trip two months from now, and he is sure he has left enough supplies the last time round. "Newt?"  
  
Newt is flushed, panting like he has exerted himself. His eyes are bright, almost feverish. Graves is about to call for a doctor when Newt wraps his hand around his wrist, holding on tight. "I-I've done a bit of thinking. And I think. I mean, I know. I think I know that I don't like what we had."  
  
Graves feels the pain of a lightening bolt spear his chest. He begins to draw away, when Newt tightens his hold.  
  
"Oh, Merlin! I'm not getting this right!" He frowns, the beginnings of an upset turning the corners of his mouth a thin line. Graves moves his wrist, going to hold Newt's hand the way he has been taught to.  
  
"It's okay. It's alright, just breathe Newt. I just need you to breathe." He says, taking and flicking his wand to summon Calming Draught from the kitchen. Newt stops him before he can uncork the vial.  
  
Moving into his space, cradling his face, Newt leans in, slotting their mouths together. Their lips are too dry and the angle is all wrong. They bumped too hard against each other and he is sure that one of them has a split lip. Graves does not push him away but it's a near thing.  
  
"I didn't take you to be cruel, Newt Scamander, but this is heartless of you." He says coldly. Graves turns to run up the stairs, only to be halted by his wrist being gripped hard again.  
  
Newt is tearful in the face of his anger. "Please Percival... Please, just listen. Please." He chokes on his words, tears welling up. "Percival, I'm going about this all wrong." Graves cannot bear to see him cry because of himself. He has a half thought comfort on his tongue when Newt speaks again, the words tumbling forth like a wonderful fount given life. "I gave what you said some thinking. When you asked me if I loved you. I do, Percival, I do. I really do. And I am a fool for thinking that I could not love you too. Because I do, and I am sorry that I made you believe I couldn't. Please Percival, I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry. I love you, I love you and I will work the rest of my life to make you see that I love y-"  
  
Graves stoppers the fount with a kiss. Not that he could live without hearing that, but because his heart is bursting and half mad with joy. He drops the vial of Calming Draught on the rug, pressing their bodies together even as he ravages Newt's mouth. He lets his tongue penetrate him, map him, taste him before they have to break apart for air. "Is that how you kiss?" He hears panted against the corner of his smile.  
  
"Have you never...?"  
  
Newt's blush rises to the tips of his nose, creeping down under his collar. "Not until you."   
  
Graves huffs a quiet laugh, tilting his head to steal gentler kisses from his husband. "Then, I will teach you."  
  
Newt ducks his eyes for a moment. When he looks back into Graves' gaze, he asks with a half-lidded whisper, "And what about sex? Would that be on the curricular?"  
  
Something happy and warm curls at the base of his belly. "I will teach that too. If you want."  
  
Newt smiles, soft and happy. "I think we are definitely overdue on that front." He pulls away to shed his coat and hanging it with Graves'. When he returns to his side, Graves takes his hand, kissing his wedding ring. Together they climb the stairs together to Graves' room, extinguishing the lights at the close of the door.


	2. Epilogue

Newt laughs at the day old stubble that tickles his the soft skin of his belly. "Scratchy." He says, rubbing his palm against Percival's jaw. Dark eyes glint in the mid-morning light and the man begins to crawl up, displacing the blankets. He settles underneath him, smiling softly. He runs his palm over strong lines of his shoulders, tracing the undulations of his musculature. 

"Husband." Percival says, voice a quiet drawl. Newt beams.

" _My_ husband." Newt echoes with a happy trill. 

Percival grins, diving in an attack that catches him between a scream and a laugh, mercilessly lavishing him with kisses and playful nips. Percival growls, recommencing the skirmish that leaves all their covers rumpled and the blanket completely lost to the floor. Newt parries with his laughter and squeals, but he is no match to the clever way Percival destroys him utterly with a kiss to his lips. They lay like that, exerted and unabashedly naked in their bed, lazily reconquering the familiar terrains of their bodies. Newt thinks he could not possibly ever tire of this activity of just kissing, touching and breathing together. 

Newt wraps his arms around Percival's shoulders, folding his body against him when he picks him up and pulls him out of bed. "Where are you taking me?" He says around a bite to Percival's shoulder.

"To the bath. I want to take you somewhere special to me." Percival replies before setting him on the cold marble counter top. "Sorry, sorry." He winces when Newt yelps at the sudden sensation of cold stone against his sleep-warmed skin. He mutters a quick wandless charm to fill the bath with water. Even from where he is, Newt already knows that it is his favourite temperature. Percival pulls away to add some bubbles to the water, drowning the whole room in the smell of jasmine. He smiles when he is lifted again, then gently lowered into the water.

"Join me?" He asks, holding onto Percival's elbow. The water feels perfect and the bubbles are luxurious against his skin.

"We'll be late." Percival warns with a smile. He lifts one leg over the bath's edge.

"Then we'll be late." Newt says again, arching himself to kiss his husband even as he begins tugging him into the water.

***

Three months, two weeks, four days since that moment at the foyer. And ever since then, nothing has changed, but yet everything has. Now, when he says husband, Newt truly means the person he wakes up to more in love than he was the night before, the person who holds him and lulls him to sleep at night with his even breathing and steady heartbeat. When before he never gives any further thought to the designation that Percival has in his life, now he cannot encapsulate what Percival is to him in mere words and sounds. Just the mere thought of Percival sends him into a tizzy of remembering their kiss before he has to go to work, of how Percival has this little smile whenever their eyes meet over the dinner the table. Newt cannot help the warmth that spreads through him at the recollection of being on the receiving end of that legendary focus when Percival traces his scars like he wants to commit all of them to memory.

One of the Occamy babies nips his finger, cross at not being at the centre of his attention. "Sorry..." He soothes, letting it snake up his arm. Percival has been coming into the sanctuary with increased frequency. And Newt is under no illusion that this is more to endear himself to the things that are precious to him, then it is out of a genuine interest in his menagerie. He can appreciate the effort. 

"Newt, where are the pellets for the Mooncalf?" Newt hears called out from the shed. 

"They should be by the herbs." 

Newt idly pets at the Occamy, watching him from the edge of the trees, watching Percival fill a bucket with feed and head up to meet the shy creatures that bob their heads for food. "We can leave after this?" Percival says after he spreads one last handful.

"Yes. They should be set for the day." He replies, allowing the Occamy to slither back into its nest. 

He lets Percival help him into his coat. "Wait a minute." Newt says just as they make to leave. Lifting his wand to his temple, he casts a quick glamour spell. Percival smiles at the image he affects.taking his arm when they step out into the street. It's a nice morning. 

"You look beautiful, darling. With or without this." Percival leans to kiss his cheek, holding out his arm when they step out into the street. It's a nice morning for a walk. The Muggles they meet on the way do not look twice his way. But those that do will see Percival and a slender redhead by his side with a quiet smile. It is not that much of a stretch from his own features, just tweaked to give the illusion that there is more feminity there than there is. Percival has always insisted that it was not necessary to go to such lengths when they are out in public, but Newt wants to. Wants to hold Percival's hand in public, wants to touch him in ways that mark him as his. Wants to kiss him and laugh with him. And all these things are things he cannot do if they step out in Muggle public as husband and husband.

"You still haven't told me where we are going," Newt says projecting his voice in a higher pitch when Percival stops them in front of a florist to buy him a bouquet of roses, "Will it be dangerous?"

"Will anything be as dangerous as that harebrained escape you did in Peru?" He laughs. Newt turns his head to bury his nose in the blooms. "No, it won't be dangerous. Although while we are on this subject, please don't ever do anything like Peru again. I doubt I can always take time off to accompany you on your trips."

"I will try." Newt replies coyly.

Percival sighs. "I suppose that is better than no promises at all." He moves his arm around Newt's waist and guides him to a diner. "Here we are. The place that started it all."

"You mean..."

"Yes. This is it." Percival grins, opening the door. "After you, my love."

The Muggle waitress who comes to greet them smiles brightly at Percival. "Ah, I knew you were taken, but goshdarn if she ain't a pretty thing too." Percival laughs.

"This is Newt. Newt, this is Millie. She takes care of me when you're off in darkest Peru." 

Newt nudges him with his elbow. "I hope he's not as picky an eater here as he is at home."

Millie waves her hand. "Compared to some of the riff raffs I get in here, he's a saint." She grins. Showing them to Percival's apparent usual table, she winks when she leaves them with the menu.

"I usually get the coffee and the short stack, but I'm thinking that I'd like a change of pace." He says, perusing the offering. "Who knows? Might find a new favourite."

Newt smiles. Millie comes and takes their order a short while later. Newt is in the middle of telling Percival about some of the wood spirits he has met while in Japan, when he finds his hand is being taken into Percival's. "There they are." 

He watches as Millie takes an old couple to a table by the window, observing how the wife takes the husband's hand in hers the whole time. Newt carefully catalogues how she is patient with her husband when he is obviously struggling to speak. Percival draws his attention back to him. He engages him in a conversation, and their orders arrive, but Newt sneaks little glances at the old couple that does not escape Percival's amused gaze. When they are done, he settles the cheque and they stand to leave. They are walking to the door when Newt stops, plucking a stem of rose out of his bouquet. Turning back to where the couple are seated, she gently taps the wife on the shoulder.

"For you. As thanks. You might not know it, but you have helped my husband and I work our marriage out. So, thank you and I hope you will have a good day." He says, holding the flower out. She startles, but starts to smile, pleased. The old woman thanks Newt for the rose, and he feels her eyes on him. Curious and following even when he retakes Percival's arm and they move back onto the street.

"It's a lovely day." Newt says, tilting his head to Percival.

"It most certainly is, my dear." He hears replied as he is tucked into a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if this is the epilogue that everyone is looking for, but I hope you've enjoyed it all the same. Thank you for liking my little indulgence. It has been a pleasure to write this xx

**Author's Note:**

> I am thinking of adding an epilogue. What do you think?


End file.
